Mewes paused and stared. At the shoreline opposite their anchorage a lantern was flashing.
"Aye, m'lady. That's the signal, sure enough." He smiled. "Didn't I tell you there'd be nothing to worry over." With an exhale of relief, he quickly turned and ordered the longboat lowered, assigning four men to the oars and another four to bring flintlocks.
The longboat lingered briefly in the surf at the shore, and moments later Winston and Atiba were headed back toward the ship.
"It seems they are safe, senhora." Serina was still watching with worried eyes. "Perhaps these branco are better than those on Barbados."
"Well, I don't think they have slaves, if that's what you mean. But that's about all you can say for them."
A few moments later the longboat bumped against the side of the Defiance, and Winston was pulling himself over the bulwarks, followed by Atiba.
"Katy, break out the tankards. I think we can deal with Jacques." He offered her a hug. "He's gone half mad—taken over the island and run off the English settlers. But there're plenty of English boucaniers here who'd like nothing better than to sail from somewhere else."
"Did he agree to help us?"
"Of course not. You've got to know him. It's just what I expected. When I brought up our little idea, he naturally refused point-blank. But he knows there're men here who'll join us if they like. Which means that tomorrow he'll claim it was his idea all along, then demand the biggest part of what we take for himself."
"Tomorrow?"